The tone in which Martin spoke attracted the attention of even the most apathetic. All the tourists looked with interest at the silvery figure of a hooded man lying on a bench that seemed to sleep forever under the care of the concrete sentries that surrounded it.
“You guys had never heard of him, but his name was Baltius and he was the luckiest man in New Bulltry once,” Martin said with a big smile before clearing his throat.
There was a tight semicircle around him, and then dozens of gazes demanded that he speak once and for all about the famous homeless.
Martin held back no longer and took a few steps until he stood next to the statue lying down with a haughty look on his face.
"Twenty years ago Baltius was parading around Lopez and Lighthouse streets, smelly and full of mange. His presence simply scared anyone away from feeding him," the guide began.
“And he didn't find leftovers around either because our beautiful New Bulltry has always been so clean,” he continued.
“Clean, but with vagrants,” snickered one tourist.
Martin shook his head and asked for more respect, delving into details, as he lightly stroked the statue.
“No one seemed to take pity on his hunger, everyone left him for dead, until a lady, perhaps as lonely as he was, gave him a bag of Chinese Milk Buns,” Martin detailed with watery eyes.
“No poison in it?” They never cared so much of me," Baltius said with a chuckle as he counted the number of buns the old lady had given to him.
"Son, I always help when I can! God bless your humor and stamina," replied the granny before walking away.
“But I'm sure it was mold bread,” shouted a little boy with a mocking expression among the tourists.
“No! That gesture of kindness was so amazing, Baltius wanted to give the lady a piece back, but in the attempt, he dropped a fortune cookie on the floor and lost track of the granny,” explained the tour guide walking towards the crowd.
Martin's presence became more prevalent the more he narrated how that homeless man was not just any awkward guy on the street.
“The fortune cookie caught Baltius' eye right away, and he picked it up like it was a gold nugget,” Martin said.
“If not a little house with a dog, at least make it a job,” Baltius pleaded before breaking the cookie in half.
"However, it didn't say either one or the other. The slip of paper inside began with a more shocking phrase," Martin pointed out in anticipation.
“People who talked to him afterwards say that Baltius could never finish reading the whole sentence, and that's why his fortune changed its content,” the guide clarified.
“He who does not read fortune, has no fortune,” exclaimed a short man with a singular accent and Asian features, who peeked out from among the crowd.
“But it seems that Baltius was so fortunate that luck would not let him off so easy,” laughed Martin as people debated fortune.
The tour guide paced back and forth until everyone fell silent and he picked up the legend where he had left off.
“The reason Baltius couldn't read the whole sentence was because robbers, perhaps as hungry as he was, ran out of nowhere and in a second snatched away the buns he was carrying, and with them, his fortune,” Martin said.
“So, the best day of his life — the guide looked up to the sky —had turned into the worst of all,” he whispered.
“The poor man with his dented feet couldn't run to catch the vandals, but he was lucky that a good businessman observed the whole scene and called the police,” remarked the guide with puffed out chest.
"And then what? What happened?" asked in unison a pair of little twins who enthusiastically approached Martin.
The guide additionally motioned for them to calm down and cleared his throat again pointing to the alley of The Fame.
"That alley you see over there was renamed The Fame, after our dear Baltius. That's where he went by when his despairing heart couldn't cope with the fact that his only food had been stolen and the police had been unable to catch them," Martin explained.
“But our good man would have revenge," continued the guide, "that very night,” he said fervently as if trying to lift everyone's spirits.
“The police bought him Chinese rice?” asked a lady with her hands clasped to her chest.
Everyone laughed in outburst.
“Better things would happen,” Martin replied as if seeking to get everyone to listen again.
“The truth was that Baltius spent his time evading the common humiliations of being a homeless among squares and alleys until he stumbled upon a dazzling scene in the midst of such gloom,” said the guide.
"The robbers from earlier appeared and intended to vandalize an old, but nice house on Belvet Street. Baltius knew it was them because they were still holding a pair of buns he longed to devour," Martin recounted with a twinkling look.
Everyone in the audience looked serious and intrigued. It was a tense calm.
“The antisocials threw rocks and sticks at the windows of thehouse, and then threw themselves out in order to take as much as they could,” Martin said.
"But just as they had ambushed Baltius nearby, the robbers were also surprised by rifle shots inside the house. Baltius heard that and felt an immense urge to see if they were still alive," said the excited guide.
“I'm going to get my bread back, you bastards,” Baltius cried just before entering the house.
“If he had been surprised before by the sudden appearance of the robbers, he was totally dumbfounded to see that the shooter was none other than the granny from before,” Martin raised his voice to the amazement of the tourists.
"Just as you heard. Fate had caused those four to open up and settle the score right there. It all happened so fast, she didn't realize that in her counterattack she generated a gas leak by mistake," the guide detailed.
"Get out of here, boy. Go, run for your life," shouted the lady, encouraging Baltius' escape.
“It was only seconds after our guy started running before that old house was flooded with a sea of flames,” Martin lamented.
“Did they all die?” the twins asked sadly.
“No, our Baltius had some burns on his legs, but he was still alive,” replied Martin.
“No! I was supposed to finish those guys off, not you, ma'am,” Baltius shrieked from outside several times before wanting to wade back into the burning house.
“But Baltius couldn't do it, because the flames were growing rapidly, and the sirens of the firemen who would soon help him and extinguish the fire began to sound,” the guide noted crestfallen.
"She had given me hope, and I couldn't give it back to her. I had to save her," a tearful Baltius told the firefighters and police officers when they asked him about everything that had happened.
“Knowing the facts, the mayor of New Bulltry decided to appoint Baltius as an honorary citizen — a homeless, who would say! — to give him the necessary care,” Martin noted as he finished wiping away his tears.
“And although he was cared for and pampered by many in the city for a couple of years, feeling he was the luckiest man in the world, the burns from before and deficiencies in his body caused his sudden death on a serene summer morning,” Martin commented in a muffled voice.
Then the guide, in his last act of the story, bent down and pointed to some small letters marked on the bench.
“Baltius did not finish reading his fortune cookie, but we completed it to his eternal memory,” exclaimed Martin imposingly.
The audience convulsed in deafening applause, and the joy of that moment remained in the minds of those tourists as the most beautiful memory of their lives.
